


Disclosure

by Pixie234



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixie234/pseuds/Pixie234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's identity is blown and he is under attack again. Deep secrets are finally disclosed, including how Matt and Karen really feel about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karen knows...

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my second fanfic piece, and I'm still stuck on Matt and Karen, but I felt afterwards that I made tit too easy for them in my first story. I plagiarised myself a little for this one, using a couple of concepts from my first piece, but this one is from a totally different angle. I wrote 2 different endings- please help me decide which one is more feasible and why, or are they both reasonable?!

Matt shocked awake. Someone was banging on his door, fit to break it down. He’d been sleeping so deeply since Fisk had been imprisoned, almost 18 months ago now.  That was not to say that crime in Hell’s Kitchen was asleep too- far from it- but the brutality of Fisk’s empire was gone. It took a few moments for him to wake up properly, and realise that it was Karen.

“Matt! Matt! Help!” she shouted.  Within seconds, Matt was pulling the door open for her, his pulse having quickened in response to the adrenaline surge Karen’s panic had induced in him.  He could actually smell the fear radiating from her.

“Karen! What the hell-”

She screamed over him and pushed past him, into his apartment. “Get your Daredevil gear on! I’m about to be kidnapped again, or killed...!”

“ _Again?_ Wh… Daredevil? What are you talking about?”, he tried to lie, caught off guard.

She slapped him. “Don’t you dare try and lie to me Matthew!  There is someone who is about to come up these stairs to probably kill us both, so GET YOUR FUCKING GEAR ON!”

Matt was dumbfounded. How the hell did Karen know? He realised this was not the time. He needed to act, not think, right now. 

He threw open his closet and dragged out his dad’s trunk, flinging the lid open and pulling out his kit.  Emotions tried to cloud his mind- shock that Karen knew his secret, fear for her life, anger that she had shown a faceless threat right to his front door. But this was _not_ the time. Years of meditation training helped centre him away from these unhelpful thoughts and feelings. Karen was holding onto the counter, gasping for air. An awkward moment passed between them as Matt stripped down and began pulling on his costume. He felt her looking at him as he changed. His face burned at the thought, and something in his body stirred, in spite of himself and the situation.

 A tense silence loomed between them for a few moments, until Matt first, then Karen, heard the assailant clamber up the steps to Matt’s apartment. Matt pushed Karen behind the counter and ran towards the threat.  The attacker kicked the door down, taunting Matt: “Matthew Murdock, AKA Daredevil, busted at last!” Matt stood silently behind the door, and then launched.  

Even though she had seen Matt do this a couple of times before, she was still astonished at the effortless - albeit currently violent- grace with which he moved. It didn’t take long for Matt to overpower the attacker; with help from Karen, who knocked him out from behind with the lid of Matt’s Le Creuset pot that he kept on the stove.  Matt had taken a few hits, and Karen had been smacked in the face.

About 15 minutes after the would-be killer had pushed his way in, Matt was hauling the unconscious man’s body back down the stairs and chucking him into the dumpster.  The irony did not escape him.  That he was unconscious and not dead was a miracle. Tonight, Matt had come closer to killing than ever before.  This man had threatened _her_.

He ran back up the stairs to the apartment. It was difficult to decide which emotion he felt most intensely- anger, bewilderment, fear, embarrassment that she had known all along; relief…. overwhelming relief that she was safe. Relief that would express itself as misplaced fury, directed at her.  Matt burst though the front door, ripping off his mask, and advanced on Karen, words tumbling out as he did so. “Are you ok? Look at your face! What the hell were you thinking, leading this maniac right to my front door? Have you lost your mind? How long have you known? How did you find out? Where did you find this guy? Are you ok? Who does he work for?” 

Karen was pacing the floor, breathing deeply.  She noted the bruises and cuts on Matt’s beautiful face. Then she collapsed onto the couch and began weeping from shock at the scene that had just unfolded and at the fact that her suspicions had been correct.  Would it have been better if she had been wrong? They would probably both be dead, but the fact that Matt was, in, fact, Daredevil, unleashed a sucker-punch of feelings of betrayal in her.  He had lied and lied, for almost 2 years. The many opportune moments he had had to tell her flashed though her mind. Why had he not trusted her? Did Foggy know? Did anyone else know? How could he be blind? She closed her eyes, deeply hurt. 

Matt slumped into the chair opposite her.  He felt her sitting there, a wreck of emotion.  He could hear the inflammation distending her injured cheek, and he could feel the burn of where she had slapped him on his own face- he seemed to feel this more than the other, more severe injuries he had just sustained. Other perceptions of her seeped into his mind. Perceptions that had nagged at him for months now- the smell of her gossamer hair, the sound of her rich honey laugh, her far-reaching intelligence, which had helped win case after case; the white-hot energy she gave off.  He’d never experienced anything like it before. Matt then, in that moment, finally admitted, truly admitted, that he had feelings for Karen that went beyond mere collegial fondness. He had known this in the back of his mind for a long time now, but had ignored it. Suddenly, unable to face her, he got up and took a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard. He swigged a few times, then wordlessly handed the bottle to Karen, who took in a good few glugs herself.  

Both had the need to talk and be heard, but neither actually wanted to speak or listen. There were important things to discuss; for instance: the fact that his identity had been discovered _(by whom?)_ ; that someone had just tried to murder them both _(why?)_ ; that there was a guy in a dumpster downstairs who would be seriously pissed off when he woke up _(how would he respond?)_. Matt broke first, ignoring all of the above. “How long have you known?”


	2. Hypocrisy

Karen bowed her head, silent tears running down her cheeks. “For months. Just after Fisk was put away. I suspected after that night you broke down. Being a lawyer doesn’t get a person busted up. And then something in your voice made me even more suspicious that day outside the office, after Daredevil- after you- had given Fisk to the cops. I followed you one night, a few weeks later, after you did one of those weird abrupt departures and-”

“You WHAT?” he exploded. “Are you nuts? Following me after a mugger or a rapist, or... Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What could have happened? I could never live with myself if something happened to you!”

“How stupid do you think I am?” she shouted, equally emotional. “Do you think I don’t know danger when I see it? You have no clue about what I’ve had to…” She stopped. She herself had kept things from Matt and Foggy, and the hypocrisy of her anger towards his secrecy and betrayal solidified, unbidden, in her mind.

Matt could see how undermining his last few comments had been. Karen was one of the smartest people he knew. Of course she would have realised. Feeling like an idiot but stubbornly unable to apologise, he tried another avenue to blow off steam. “If you’re so good at spotting danger, how come you let that asshole follow you right to my apartment? You’ve blown my cover! Now we’re both in danger again!”

Her eyes flashed. “You’re the asshole! That guy already knew who you were and where you lived! He cornered me and told me. As proof that they would come and kill you if I didn’t come quietly. They wanted me as bait- to lure you out of your home ground, where they knew you’d have the upper hand. I managed to break free and came here, to give us both the best chance possible!”

Matt had to admit that that had been quick thinking on her part. But he was still childishly embarrassed that he hadn’t known that she had known, and angry at himself for how he was currently behaving, but wounded pride drove him to continue venting his anger at her. “That still didn’t give you the right to… and what do you mean kidnapped _again_? When have you ever been kidnapped?” he shouted irrationally.

Karen simmered with rage at Matt’s behaviour.  How could he question whether or not she had been kidnapped before?  Memories of being held at gunpoint flooded into her mind; piercing through the barriers that she had tried to build to forget the intense trauma of it all. Irrationality gripped her. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again", she whispered. Then she screamed it, as inescapable anguish claimed her: “Don’t you _ever_!” She knew in that moment, though, that she had to choose whether she should continue to lie to Matt about Wesley. Months of secrecy spewed out of her. “Wesley kidnapped me. I shot him dead. That fucking bastard kidnapped me and would have killed me if I hadn’t done it first! I had no choice!” Matt’s living room had become a bizarre kind of confessional for her; the person in the room who was _not_ religious. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to disclose about the first time she had used a gun.

The silence was deafening. Matt’s chest closed. His head closed. Panic and disbelief seized him, and he couldn’t breathe. He started trembling at the thought that she had nearly been killed. He bent over and supported his hands on his thighs. He had known something had happened but hadn’t pushed for more details because he had been so caught up in his own ‘being-a-saviour’ crusaid; not seeing that the person whom he now realised he loved more than anyone, including Claire; including Elektra; had been in mortal danger at the time. He was struck dumb by his _emotional_ blindness, unable to speak to or comfort her.

Karen, having been too agitated to stay on the couch, was now leaning over the counter again; unable to breathe herself; re-living, re-living... She felt sick. Matt would surely never want to be anywhere near her again. His reaction to what she had just said proved that, in her mind. She knew how sacred life was to him. The thought of losing him was unbearable. Her feelings for him had crossed _that_ line months back- yet another dirty little secret she had been keeping from him. What a hypocrite she was.

The heaving silence drew out between them, as she put her head down on the counter, gasping and clutching her chest.  Then she felt his trembling hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok Karen. It’s ok. It's my fault. I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her close. She wept into his shoulder, herself saying “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over again, like an incantation. She was apologizing to him; to herself; and perversely, to Wesley.

He let her cry for a while, stroking her hair, wincing at intrusive visions of her being dead at Wesley's feet. Eventually, when her sobs subsided, he pulled away from her. He wished he could see her in the colours Foggy had tried to describe to him, instead of the raging palette he had come to accept as his only ‘visual’ understanding of the world. Apart from immediately after the accident, he had never resented his blindness, but he had been of late- what did she really look like? He’d have to be satisfied with the fact that he could ‘feel’ the contours of her face and body through the energy she discharged. Everyone had a sightly different energy, but hers... glittered? Was that the right way to describe it?  Being so close to her in their current embrace allowed him to _actually_ feel her contours, and he felt his pants tighten around his groin, despite the inappropriateness of this given their current situation. The intensity of that situation undid him, and drove him to blow _all_ his cover, once and for all, despite months of feigned aloofness; having tried to avoid the truth of what he felt. He kissed her. And there was no mistaking the fact that she kissed him back. Her warmth and softness washed over him, but then so did feelings of guilt. How could he take advantage of her when she was so utterly vulnerable? When she could just have been killed-again- in the name of saving him? This shameful thought shocked him away from her, and he backed away, horrified, tripping over his kitchen chair, slamming onto the floor; hitting his head on the table going down. He cried out in pain, and Karen dropped down beside him.

“Matt! Are you ok?” He clutched his head.

“Oh my god. I shouldn’t have... That was a mistake!” She came closer, wanting to touch him, where he had just injured himself; to tell him she wanted him too; that he should not be sorry. He lashed out, reflexively, mad at himself, and swatted her hand away. “We can’t do this! It’s not safe. Get out! Get away from me!” he shouted. “Get out Karen!”


	3. Rage

Karen froze. Then she slowly stood up, shocked. How could he even begin to think that something that had felt so right had been a mistake?  How could he simply dismiss her like this?  Matt could feel the icy rage radiating from her; possessing her. She let rip: “You arrogant shit! You’ll decide what’s right for me, will you?! It’s too dangerous to be with you? The helpless damsel, alongside the dashing hero, needing to be protected? Keep her safe from her own desires? She can’t decide for herself, knowing full well the implications of a relationship with God’s gift to Hell’s Kitchen, having played it over and over in her mind for months? Get over yourself, Matt! You’re such a fucking cliché. I’m not some helpless, love-struck Lois Lane! A cliché and a coward- even Wilson Fisk had the woman he loved publicly by his side every step of the way!”

Matt was utterly taken aback at what Karen had said, stung by the truth of her words. He’d never seen her like this- anger seeping out of her every pore. She was usually so gentle and contained. More hot shame welled up from his chest and radiated up to his throat. He had so many thoughts that he wanted to express... she’d visualized them together... she’d kissed him back... she wanted to face his danger with him. But again, he chose to go on the defensive, his voice loudening with each word, feeling totally emasculated as he lay on the floor; bleeding and defenceless against her bitter anger: “A  _coward_? Seriously, a coward? Karen, stop and think... That was before people knew Fisk’s real identity! Where is Vanessa now? Off the map! Being protected and hidden!”

Karen hesitated for a moment, considering what he had said. She glared down at him; looked for a moment as thought she was about to unleash a new barrage against him.  Then she stormed off, out of the apartment, leaving Matt to stew in yet another booming silence, tortured by his own thoughts; knowing that she was right- the he had been an arrogant asshole.  That his narcissistic hero complex could have cost her her life at the hands of James Wesley, because he hadn't been paying attention... and to make matters worse, he had actually sworn he would keep her safe. He feared the consequences of having crossed one line too many that day. If he was honest with himself, Karen magnified him, his skills, in ways he couldn’t understand. He had become much stronger, more resolved, just be being around her, he reflected. And now she was gone; perhaps for good. He lay back down on the floor, feeling hopeless, his head and heart aching, adrenaline surging, apologies dead on his lips. He wished she had stayed, if only to scream at him some more. For the first time, his suit compressed him, strangled him, instead of liberating him.  He knew that he would never feel that same way about Daredevil again.  


	4. Freshly showered

They didn’t speak for a few days. Matt had tried to call. He'd been to work, hoping that she’d come in, but she didn’t. He got nothing done; cancelled all his appointments; spent all his time brooding over her. He'd been to Josie's, he'd gone to her apartment, the grocery store where he knew she shopped... nothing. He didn't even consider the fact that, his cover having been blown, he could be attacked at any moment. That meant little now.  He did, however, obsess over the fact that _she_ was now in grave danger.  Images of her screaming for help or being beaten or worse kept looming over him.  It was unbearable.  Foggy was away with his family, out of contact. But what would he have said to Foggy anyway? He suspected that Foggy had unspoken feelings for Karen too- another reason he had held back.

Finally on the Saturday night, he decided to go back to her apartment and try again to face up to the situation at hand; the situation he had created, through defensiveness and immaturity. He had to see that she was ok, and he needed to talk to her.

He knocked on her door, hoping, hoping that she would be there this time, and would be willing to see him. Being so distracted, he couldn't actually tell whether she was in her apartment or not. No answer. He knocked again. He now heard a door open inside. "Karen? It's me." He waited so long that he was about to turn away, but then she appeared at the door, dazzling his frayed nerves with her scent. God, that scent... He tingled with relief and anticipation.

Karen was surprised to see him. He was looking haggard, worn, unkempt. She registered the fact that he did not have his glasses on, which made him look really vulnerable. He was very seldom without them, and the significance of this did not escape her- no more barriers or pretences between them.  It was easy to forget that he was blind sometimes (was he, really?), but today he looked completely sightless and glazed over.  She was so glad to see him, even in his current state. She had felt bad about how things had unfolded between them, guilty about the way she had snapped so uncharacteristically; though she was still really angry at how he had behaved too.  She secretly hoped that their bust-up was responsible for his pitiful appearance- that would be a perverse ray of hope that he felt the same way as she did. She'd gone on a bit of a bender afterwards.  She'd been reckless, given the fact that she now had a target on her back.  Seeing him standing in front of her again made her realise just how much she'd missed him... how much she wanted him. But all the same, she should not have opened her door, because of...

“Matt? You, uh, you shouldn’t be here”, she said. 

He ignored her protest and blustered ahead. “I’ve come to not apologise.”

“Uhhmm... what? To _not_ apologise?”

“I mean I’ve come to say I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I kissed you, even though things kind of went South after... and I insulted you, and undermined you, and underestimated you.” He stepped over the threshold and kissed her passionately, and she did not resist, but within a couple of seconds, he realized something wasn’t right. And then he heard it... a second heartbeat. “Karen! There’s someone in your apartment!” he whispered.

As he said it, the bathroom door opened. “Shit babe, you have an awesome shower!” But Matt had started his attack a second before he realised what he had walked into; automatically assuming that another person in Karen’s apartment meant that she must be in danger. He aimed a blow at the ‘assailant’ before he could stop himself, clipping him under the chin. In defense, the other man punched Matt in the face, breaking his nose. “What the fuck, man!” shouted the as yet un-named lover, clutching his jaw. “Karen? What the fuck! Is this your _boyfriend_?”

“Karen, who the hell...?” yelled Matt, simultaneously, spluttering through his bleeding nose.

Karen yelled too, flustered and embarrassed, not knowing what to do. “Stop! Stop, both of you! Matt, you have to go!”

“But Karen! I thought we... I mean, the other night, when we...” said Matt, disbelief and blood dribbling all over him.

“You made it perfectly clear how things were going to be, Matt! Did you expect me to sit around, pining by the phone, waiting for you to reconsider?" (she had for the first couple of days, but hadn't been able to answer when he had called).  

“But Karen, you can’t just date random men... what if it’s not safe? What if... they have an agenda?” gulped Matt, swallowing blood and mucus and clutching at straws.

“'Random men'? An agenda? An AGENDA?” roared Karen, fuelled by the anguish of the past few days, and the bottle of cheap whiskey that lay empty on the floor behind her. "Is that all I am now? A way to get to _you_? Fuck you Matt.”  She conveniently ignored the fact that they guy she had just had sex with was, in fact, a random man that had picked her up the night before in that seedy bar on West 44th, and that Matt's concerns were not unfounded. 

“No Karen, I didn’t mean it that way...”

“How _did_ you mean it then? How dare you bust in here on an unsolicited 'Karen crusade', to save me from myself, my assumed misery? Get the hell out.”  She didn't actually want him to leave (she'd been playing Mills and Boon variations of _Matt-turning-up-at-my-door-unexpectedly-to- confess-his-undying-love_ through her mind for ages), but his persisting arrogance and assumptions and months of pent up emotion got the better of her. 

The other man was quite speechless. Matt sized him up, and gave him a blank death stare, before saying: “Ok, ok... I’ll leave. I’m sorry. For everything. You were right about everything. I’m... I... I love you Karen. I can’t deny it anymore.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he just couldn’t physically _not_ say it a moment longer. That word, ‘love’ had been fervently playing in his mind ever since that disastrous night; rinse, repeat; rinse repeat... He could actually _taste_ the word now.  And now he'd blown it again; created another disastrous night. He turned to leave, feeling hollow and alone.


	5. Ending version1: Tomorrow's problem (Romantic version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternative ending to the story- more romantic. I thought maybe they would end up having a much more romantic experience than what I initially wrote (chapter 6 was the original). Feedback is welcome- please help me decide which version is better/ more feasible.

As Matt turned away and Karen slammed the door, he was dimly aware of the un-named man and Karen arguing as he stumbled down the stairs. He was numbed by disappointment and shame. He kind of had expected her to be sniffling away and to welcome him with open arms. He couldn’t help loving her even more for calling him on his shit. Agenda?! What the hell had he been thinking? He had never considered that she might date other men. She’d never let anything on before, which had lulled him into a false sense of security; that she was theirs; his and Foggy’s. Stupid, stupid!! She was gorgeous, clever, funny, resourceful... Of course she must have other men keen on her. He was sure he’d really blown it now. He morosely projected this situation into the future. Karen would leave Nelson and Murdock, and how would they explain that to Foggy? How would they function as a firm? How would he cope without her constant, deeply comforting presence?

Matt dragged himself home, feeling leaden. He tripped over a few obstacles on the way. He crossed streets, regardless of traffic, deaf to horns blaring at him. Hell's Kitchen was busy tonight- sirens blared all over the place. He didn't hear them either. He somehow made it to his front door and was then consumed with rage. He screamed as he went in, punching a hole in the door, kicking the couch, overturning the kitchen table. Trembling, he dissolved onto the couch; angry tears trickling down his face. He felt worse than the day Foggy had found out his true identity.

Lies, lies, lies. He tried to meditate, but it was no good. Flashes of Karen’s repeated anger pierced his flesh and he couldn’t remove himself from them. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough; thinking that he deserved to drown in these horrible feelings, as retribution for his inexcusable actions. He went and lay on the bed as midnight drew nearer, but could not sleep. Some time later, he imagined or dreamed that he heard Karen knocking on his door. It took a moment to realise that she really was knocking on his door. He ran to the door and threw it open. He couldn’t read the situation. His mind was clouded. An extremely awkward moment ensued. “I’m sorry”, they said in unison. More silence; awkwardness.

“Uh, can I come in?” said Karen.

“Um, yeah, of course” said Matt, as he stood aside to let her in, fumbling with the door handle. He closed the door behind them and followed her into the apartment, tentatively.

Karen took in the hole in the door and the overturned table. The bed was unmade and the place smelled musty. The massive lit billboard teased the furniture and it's reflection was distorted by the beer bottles littering the floor. The pot lid still lay where she had left it the night of the attack.

"When last did you eat, Matt?" What a banal question to ask at a time like this, when there was so much else to say.

Matt was stunned. Stunned that she was standing in front of him again. “Um, what? Uh, I don't remember."

"Want me to fix you something?" she asked. Wow. where the hell was this coming from? She was offering to cook?

"Uh..." Matt wasn't hungry but this was a peace offering. "Sure, I'd love that, but there isn't any food."

"Beer then", she pronounced, and went to the fridge.

Matt was shaking. He had to sit down. He could not screw this up. He felt her come closer with a beer for him. He took it from her but dropped it. It didn't break, but it fell over and beer seeped over the carpet. "Crap", she said- let me get a cloth."

But Matt grabbed her hand. He couldn't let her go- not even into the kitchen. He brought her hand to his face, putting her palm on his cheek, and felt himself being reignited by her touch. He kissed her palm. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, pooling in her hand. "Karen... you’re right, I have been a patronising, arrogant asshole, and that has put you at even more risk, and has undermined you as a person.” She didn’t respond, but he couldn’t stop himself; no matter what she thought. It was time for the truth. “You’re amazing. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re smart, and... just... unbelievable. And beautiful... I mean in every sense. I can’t see you like other people see you, and I hate that, I hate that... I can’t see your eyes... I wish I could see your eyes... but I can feel you, and hear you, and smell you... and... and you feel beautiful.” He so wanted to get up and embrace her, but he didn't dare.

  
Karen sat next to him and put both her hands on his face and caressed him; kissed him. Rendered breathless, both literally and metaphorically, he took a few seconds to respond. He’d been aching for just this. She paused, unable to interpret his lack of response. A short, suspended moment, and then Matt was kissing her and engulfing her in his arms. “What happened to... that guy?” he asked.

“I told him to fuck off too, but I really meant it with him. His abs weren’t as hot as yours anyway.” Matt grinned as he kissed her, not without a surge of testosterone.

There was so much to talk about, so much to say, but for now they would communicate through touch, Matt’s favourite sense. He ignored the searing pain in his broken nose, and his cut lip, and kissed and kissed her, eventually breaking away to say: "Karen, did you hear what I said earlier? I love you."

"Yes, Matt, I heard. That's why I came. I love you too", she whispered. "I have been dying to say that for the longest time." She stood up and guided him up too. She walked them to the bedroom, through the beer wet patch, making it perfectly clear what she wanted next.  
She sat him down on the bed and climbed on top of him, kissing more urgently now. There was no logic, just emotion- months of pent up emotion, injecting itself into the physical connection between them. rolled his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. His hands were all over her, clumsily trying to drink her in. Over her butt, up her spine, over her shoulders, down her arms, his fingers buzzing madly as he went. He tore her t-shirt off and traced his hands down to her breasts, over her bra. Satin and lace- soft, soft. He paused, the better to inhale her. She wouldn’t let him stop kissing her. He caressed her face, being extra gentle where she had been hit by the asshole. He kissed her forehead as she undid her bra, throwing it carelessly onto the bed. She took his hands and smoothed them up over her bare breasts. He glanced his hands over her nipples and then embraced her again, scarcely believing that she was here.

  
She pulled away and tracked her own hands across the paths forged by the scars he had sustained at the hands of Nobu. “Lie down”, she murmured. Matt lay back, completely at her command. She undid his belt and his Levi’s and stripped him down to nakedness. His penis had been so hard since she had started kissing him that the relief from the constriction of his jeans was immense. Karen straddled him, teasing him, gently kissing his face, his torso. She still had her own jeans on. He fumbled with her belt so much that she had to remove it and her jeans herself, giggling softly as she did so. He did manage to roll her panties down her thighs; then she took over again and tore them off completely. Matt caught her up in his arms again, kissing her, grunting at the pain this was causing on his bruised face, and at the desperate need he now had to be inside her. He rolled her onto the bed and whispered, “are you ready?”

"Yes Matt. I have been since we met..."

He pushed into her. Warm, so warm. He let her flesh settle around him and then began to thrust, slowly and gently. She thrust back. She closed her legs around his back. He tried to be gentle, so that he could communicate his love. His senses dissolved into one. He'd never be able to explain the experience- everything went quiet and white. He tasted, smelled, heard and felt whiteness.  
Karen inhaled deeply at the pleasure of having Matt in her body. Matt clutched her to his chest, as clumsy as that made their love-making. After a few minutes, he cried out, and then she could feel that he was shaking. He rolled off her and she rearranged them so that they got under the covers, and so that she could put her head on his chest. They slept, blissfully suspended from reality. All the complexities that they would have to face together going forward; and the pressing need to find out who was attacking them, lay disregarded at their feet. That would be tomorrow’s problem.


	6. Tomorrow's problem- alternative ending (angry Karen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was how I originally wrote the ending but I didn't think it felt quite right after thinking about it. Advice comparing the 2 endings would be great!

As Matt turned away and Karen closed the door, he was dimly aware of the un-named man and Karen arguing as he stumbled down the stairs. He was numbed by disappointment and shame. He kind of had expected her to be sniffling away and to welcome him with open arms. He couldn’t help loving her even more for calling him on his shit. Agenda?! What the hell had he been thinking? He had never considered that she might date other men. She’d never let anything on before, which had lulled him into a false sense of security; that she was theirs; his and Foggy’s. Stupid, stupid!! She was gorgeous, clever, funny, resourceful... Of course she must have other men keen on her. He was sure he’d really blown it now. He morosely projected this situation into the future. Karen would leave Nelson and Murdock, and how would they explain that to Foggy? How would they function as a firm? How would he cope without her constant, deeply comforting presence?  
Matt continued stumbling, all the way home, drunk with despair. He blasted into his apartment, screaming as he came in, punching a hole in the door, kicking the couch, overturning the kitchen table. Trembling, he dissolved onto the couch; angry tears trickling down his face. He felt worse than the day Foggy had found out his true identity.  
Lies, lies, lies. He tried to meditate, but it was no good. Flashes of Karen’s repeated anger pierced his flesh and he couldn’t remove himself from these feelings. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough; thinking that he deserved to drown in these horrible feelings, as retribution for his inexcusable actions. He went and lay on the bed as midnight drew nearer, but could not sleep. Some time later, he imagined or dreamed that he heard Karen knocking on his door. It took a moment to realise that she really was knocking on his door. He ran to the door and threw it open. He couldn’t read the situation. His mind was clouded. An extremely awkward moment ensued. “I’m sorry”, they said in unison. More silence; awkwardness.  
“Uh, can I come in?” said Karen.  
“Um, yeah, of course” said Matt, as he stood aside to let her in, fumbling with the door handle. He closed the door behind them and followed her into the apartment, tentatively. Then she rounded on him, suddenly, growling. “You will never make assumptions about me again; or attempt to make decisions on my behalf.”  
Matt was stunned. Stunned that she was standing in front of him again, and at the animal energy she was radiating. “Uh... yeah, of course... you’re right, I have been a patronising, arrogant asshole, and that has put you at even more risk, and has undermined you as a person.” She didn’t respond, but he couldn’t stop himself; no matter what she thought. It was time for the truth. “You’re amazing. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re smart, and... just... unbelievable. And beautiful... I mean in every sense. I can’t see you like other people see you, and I hate that, I hate that... I can’t see your eyes... I wish I could see your eyes... but I can feel you, and hear you, and smell you... and... and you feel beautiful.” Matt sincerely wanted to hold her again, but he didn’t dare go near her.   
She advanced on him, and he expected her to slap him again for speaking out of turn. But then she put her hands on his face and caressed him; kissed him. Rendered breathless, both literally and metaphorically, he took a few seconds to respond. He’d been aching for just this. She paused, unable to interpret his lack of response. A short, suspended moment, and then Matt was kissing her and engulfing her in his arms. “What happened to... that guy?” he asked.  
“I told him to fuck off too, but I really meant it with him. His abs weren’t as hot as yours anyway.” Matt grinned as he kissed her, not without a surge of testosterone.  
There was so much to talk about, so much to say, but for now they would communicate through touch, Matt’s favourite sense. He ignored the searing pain in his broken nose, and his cut lip, and kissed and kissed her, eventually breaking away to say: "Karen, did you hear what I said earlier? I love you."  
"Yes, Matt, I heard. That's why I came. I love you too" she whispered. "I have been dying to say that for the longest time." She pinned him to the wall, rubbing against him, making it perfectly clear what she wanted next. There was no logic, just emotion- months of pent up emotion, injecting itself into the physical connection between them. 

He hoisted her legs around his waist and took her to the bedroom. He sat on the bed, her legs still wrapped around him, still kissing, more urgently now. She rolled his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. His hands were all over her, clumsily trying to drink her in. Over her butt, up her spine, over her shoulders, down her arms, his fingers buzzing madly as he went. He tore her t-shirt off and traced his hands down to her breasts, over her bra. Satin and lace- soft, soft. He paused, the better to inhale her. She wouldn’t let him stop kissing her. He caressed her face, being extra gentle where she had been hit by the asshole. He kissed her forehead as she undid her bra, throwing it carelessly onto the bed. She took his hands and smoothed them up over her bare breasts. He glanced his hands over her nipples and then embraced her again, scarcely believing that she was here. 

She pulled away and tracked her own hands across the paths forged by the scars he had sustained at the hands of Nobu. “Lie down”, she murmured. Matt lay back, completely at her command. She undid his belt and his Levi’s and stripped him down to nakedness. His penis had been hard since she had started kissing him that the relief from the constriction of his jeans was immense. Karen straddled him, teasing him, gently kissing his face, his torso. She still had her own jeans on. He fumbled with her belt so much that she had to remove it and her jeans herself, giggling softly as she did so. He did manage to roll her panties down her thighs; then she took over again and tore them off completely. Matt caught her up in his arms again, kissing her, grunting at the pain this was causing on his bruised face, and at the desperate need he now had to be inside her. He rolled her onto the bed and whispered, “are you ready?” 

She responded by grabbing his penis and directing it towards her vagina. He exclaimed at the intensity of her touch, then pushed into her. Warm, so warm. He let her flesh settle around him and then began to thrust, slowly and gently. She thrust back. She closed her legs around his back. He tried to be gentle, so that he could communicate his love. As he thrust though, his senses were overcome by her, and a blind, animal need overtook him. “Karen”, he gasped. “I can’t control myself anymore... I’m going to come...”  
“It’s ok Matt, I want you too. Fuck me Matt, fuck me. Come for me. For me.”  
Matt gave in, allowing himself to thrust more and more desperately, grunting with pleasure, until he pulsated love, hope, redemption, years of pent up anger, and desire through her beautiful body. He cried out and arched his back as he climaxed. It occurred to him- what a random thought at this time-that he hadn't come this fast since he had first masturbated. It was her- the way she felt- just... dissolved him.

Karen threw her own head back and groaned with pleasure at the feeling of Matt in her body. She could feel that Matt was shaking now. He rolled off her and she rearranged them so that they got under the covers, and so that she could put her head on his chest. They slept, blissfully suspended from reality. All the complexities that they would have to face together going forward; and the pressing need to find out who was attacking them, lay disregarded at their feet. That would be tomorrow’s problem.


End file.
